


Legacies

by Impandagrl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Gen, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 23:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15083681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impandagrl/pseuds/Impandagrl
Summary: I wrote this for @niamandthings (from Tumblr)'s birthday.It is mostly a re-write of a few scenes from 8x22 - Clip Show - and 8x23 - SacrificeThanks so much to @seenashwrite (Tumblr)/SeeNashWrite (ao3) for taking the time to beta this - especially on such short notice!





	Legacies

**Author's Note:**

> A/N If you are Niam/Bridget (or anyone who loves Sarah Blake)- when you get to the middle and are questioning why I would subject you to this, I ask that you trust me. This is my “how it should have ended” for you.
> 
> A/N If you are a huge fan of Crowley- you might not enjoy this. Sorry, this is for Niam. (If you ask nicely, maybe I could write you a story for your birthday where ‘Crowley kills Lucifer and Dean thanks him for being his bff and when Crowley says “What about Cas?” Dean answers “Who?” and they go out to a karaoke bar or something’.) 
> 
> I have more notes, but they contain spoilers, so I'll put them below

Sam walked over to sit on the bed, trying to keep his movements and expression casual. Sarah was just as he remembered her, how she appeared in his mind’s eye when he’d let himself picture what his life - their life - could’ve been. She was so strong, processing everything they had told her with such grace as if being threatened by the king of hell was something she dealt with every day.

One thing was different, though. He’d noticed it immediately and had been struggling not to bring it up ever since; he didn’t want to be that guy. It wasn’t like he had any claim on her. Now he pushed his reasoning aside, allowed himself to use it as an excuse, because she needed a distraction. And maybe because it was distracting him.

“That’s new,” he murmured as he sat next to her. Really, Sam? ‘That’s new,’? At least he thought he’d pulled off a nonchalant tone. At any rate, it didn’t seem like she’d taken offense at the implied question.

She tilted her left hand side to side, fingers spread so the ring caught the light. 

“His name’s Ian. He works Search and Rescue.” Her eyes met his for a moment and her expression turned to one of amusement. “I guess I have a type.”

She sobered slightly and Sam could see the deep love in her eyes as she told him she had a daughter, not quite one year old.

Sam wanted to cry. Not from the loss of his fantasy, but the knowledge that the sacrifices he and his brother had made over the years were all worth it if they had allowed the sweet, strong woman in front of him a chance at a normal life and the beautiful family she deserved. The reality would keep him going once they parted ways far better than the dream ever could.

Their soft conversation was interrupted by the shrill sound of the phone. Showtime. Sarah’s nerves were suddenly evident in how quickly she stood, reacting before either of the boys. She pulled her gun, but her hands were steady. Sam stood and positioned himself behind her.

Dean answered the phone.

“Crowley?” he spat, even though there was no question as to who was calling.

The only answer on the line was the smug bastard counting down from five. At the last count, there was a brief pause before Sarah collapsed, gasping and gurgling, clutching at her throat. Sam cradled her head, talking her through it, reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. His adrenaline was spiking and he knew he was rambling, but it didn’t matter.

Crowley was still talking. Gloating. He couldn’t resist revelling in the cleverness of his plan. So sure of himself he all but spelled out for them that there was a hex bag, they just needed to find it.

The sound of turned-over furniture and breaking lamps hit the air as Sam started tearing apart the room, Dean catching up a second after and moving to do the same.

Crowley kept up his monologuing, taking a moment to rub it in that he’d made certain they wouldn’t be able to complete the final trial, before moving on to the meat of his victory speech.

Sam tried to drown out the acidic words and focus on his task, but they echoed what he’d just been thinking a moment before. The only thing that had gotten him through the self-doubt, and even self-hatred, had been the certainty that there were people out there still breathing, people for whom the supernatural was nothing but a bad dream, all because of Dean and him.

Crowley’s attack at the core of his being was not something he was going to be able to walk away from, but that would have to wait. For now, he returned to Sarah’s side, gently clearing a strand of hair from her face.

As her gasps for air grew quieter, her eyes were focused on his face, nothing in them but trust. Then Sarah was still, silent. Sam kept repeating the word, ‘no,’ as if it would change anything. The thought of her never breathing again made him sick, and he leaned against the wall, needing to feel something solid at his back.

Crowley was finally wrapping up with his speech, and before he hung up, issued an ultimatum: he was going to keep coming after them - the people they’d saved - one by one unless they handed over the demon tablet and agreed to cease the trials.

Dean threw the phone in frustration. They had to put an end to this before one more person died.

 

__________◇_______________◇___________________◇_____  
___◇_______________◇_________________◇______________  
_________◇_________________◇________________◇_______

 

Sam waited at the trunk of the impala, hoping it wasn’t apparent how keyed up he was as Dean walked toward him. He assumed Crowley was secured and ready for him to perform the final trial. Dean’s words confirmed it.

“He’s primed. How you feelin’?”

Sam focused on topping off the jar of holy water before answering. “Honestly? For the first time in a long time, it feels like we’re going to win.” He realized the words were the truth, however conflicted he felt at the moment. “I’m good.”

He tried to focus on going over the details of the cure for Dean even though his thoughts were elsewhere. His stomach dropped as Dean began listing his suggestions for Sam’s impending confession. As close as they were, there were so many things that they tried to keep buried. All the things that were right under the surface. So many betrayals. He could only hope his brother could keep on forgiving him.

“Thanks,” he choked, grabbing the duffle as quickly as he could and ducking his head, hoping it would cut Dean off. He must have caught the hint because he mercifully threw Sam a softball, blaming him for the Penny Marco incident. There was no way Dean had really gotten that mixed up, but Sam gratefully played along, correcting him before turning back toward the chapel.

He didn’t pause, kept walking right past the confessional and into the sanctuary where Crowley was being held. His doubts were gone. This was the right thing to do. He’d never been more certain of anything.

Crowley sneered as Sam approached the chained demon, stopping in front of the chair.

“You’re here to cure me, Moose?”

His words dripped with arrogance. The revulsion Sam felt at that moment was so strong it depleted whatever reserves of self-control he had left. He grabbed the demon’s throat with one hand, cutting off his ability to talk - or yell for Dean.

Pulling the wickedly serrated blade out of the duffle, the thought came to mind how good it would feel to see the bastard’s face as he learned how enormous his failure really was. He could almost taste the sweet words on his tongue: ‘You idiot, did you really think we wouldn’t search the room?’

Crowley had obviously taken the time to spy on each target before killing them, and they were betting he’d meticulously planned Sarah’s death to be his perfect “object lesson”. They had originally been looking for bugs when Dean had pried open the phone casing and they saw the hex bag. They’d carefully combed the rest of the room from top to bottom to make sure there weren’t any others and quickly decided that the best way to protect Sarah would be to make Crowley believe he’d succeeded in killing her.

He bit his lip to keep himself in check; as satisfying as witnessing the revelation in Crowley’s dying moments would be, he refused to risk it even now. Sarah was safe. Her family was safe. And nothing from the supernatural world would haunt them ever again, not if Sam had anything to say about it.

So he settled for revelling in the shock and horror in the demon’s eyes as the knife sliced through his expensive, tailored suit, then further as Sam plunged it into his body, twisting as he went. Then at the last second, Sam leaned forward to hiss right in Crowley’s ear:

“This is for Sarah!”

They would find another demon to complete the trials. Or not, it really didn’t matter right now. If they were unable to close hell, that’s what he and Dean were there for, right? He had to confess, they were pretty damn good at this sort of thing.

He wiped the blade on his jacket. Time for a different confession. Dean was going to be pissed, but he’d just have to get over it. Sam had made this call - and it was the right one.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm a huge fan of Crowley, I was actually really surprised at how satisfying it was to write his death scene, but know that this was Niam's fantasy, not mine. Poor Niam has been watching from the beginning, shipped Sam with Sarah hard, and had to go through them bringing her back just to kill her off. Niam has not been able to forgive the King of Hell since that moment. 
> 
> The 'Sarah actually being alive' part is my personal headcanon, because why in the heck would they just sit around waiting for Crowley to contact them without searching the freaking room? They knew Crowley had been expertly planning each hit, taking out the people they saved one by one, but they didn't think he'd have some plan with Sarah? They thought he was going to come busting through the front door with all the subtlety and cunning of a cave troll?


End file.
